


Reporter's Tenacity

by TrashCat



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Size Difference, him big, miles u size queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 21:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5760253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashCat/pseuds/TrashCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There's not NEARLY enough Chris/Miles in this world...people who want to get fucked by the big guy UNITE</p>
    </blockquote>





	Reporter's Tenacity

**Author's Note:**

> There's not NEARLY enough Chris/Miles in this world...people who want to get fucked by the big guy UNITE

Miles was tired, beat all to hell. When he closed his eyes he saw dark swirling shapes and the charred silhouette of Father Martin on the cross. But he was practically free now. The camcorder in his hand had enough video evidence on it to bury Murkoff so deep it would never come back. And down this last long hallway was the elevator that would lead him to freedom.

When he heard the clink of chains and that labored breathing, bitterness and dread rose to take the place of his heart.

 _Fuck you,_ he thought. _Fuck_ me. _Don't I deserve a break now of all times?_ He ducked into a side hallway and then into the first of the little bedrooms that lined the hall, hiding under one of the beds for what felt like the zillionth time. He had done more running and hiding for his life tonight than he had done the whole time he was reporting in Afghanistan. God he'd thought he was tough shit for that. He hadn't seen shit. An exploded car in a dusty street? He'd filmed a guy fucking a headless corpse tonight. And this Chris Walker fucker, this guy put a face on all of the insanity he'd seen tonight: a huge mutilated giant who wanted to twist his head off like the top of a beer.

Well, he'd survived this far. He wasn't going to let Walker stop him from reaching that elevator.

Still, he couldn't stop himself from panicking when the shadow of Walker's huge feet passed under the door.

He was patrolling the hallway, muttering to himself, something about security protocols and mission goals, as always. Miles heard him pace down to the end of the hallway at a deliberate pace, and then he heard a heavy thud. Then another. Then a crash.

Then a pause.

Then the same two thuds, and another crash, but closer. Miles held his breath to listen.

He felt, as much as heard, the next set.

 _Jesus Christ he's bashing in the doors._ And there was nothing he could do but wait under this bed, a sitting duck—the time to make a run for it had passed. Walker was next door now. Too close. If he headed for the hallway Walker would overtake him within just a few strides. He wasn't sure he'd be able to get a strong start, anyway—his legs felt like jello. Hell, he wasn't sure his spine was working either.

All he could do was stare at the sliver of light coming under the door, and feel his heart pounding against the floor through his shirt.

Walker started to bash down his door. _It's okay, it's pitch black in here, if I stay quiet he'll never know I'm here._ He pressed his hand against his mouth and nose, trying to stifle the hyperventilating he knew he couldn't control.

The door hit the thin carpet and light flooded in around the wide shape of Chris Walker. He stood in the doorway for a moment, clenching and unclenching his mangled fists, breathing like a bull that's seen red.

_Just stay quiet. He won't see me, I just need to stay quiet—_

With a grunt of effort, Walker lowered himself to the ground to look under the bed next to Miles's, and Miles's heart tried to choke him out, suddenly beating so fast he was sure he couldn't get air—he took in a shaky gasping breath.

Walker turned to look at him.

A talon-like fist curled around Miles's collar and yanked him out from under the bed, lifting him up and slamming him against the wall without any effort. Miles's sneakers brushed against the bedspread, and his hands desperately pulled at Walker's huge one.

"Little pig." Walker grinned, or maybe his mouth was just forced that way by the cruel metal bit that Miles only now noticed he wore. "No more escape."

"N-no," Miles gasped. "No, please." His feet pushed against Walker in vain, trying to force him away, trying to loosen his grip. No use. The guy was a fucking tank. A kinda chubby tank.

In the corner of his eye, Miles saw the camcorder lying on the ground. His evidence. Like hell he was gonna die here, so close to freedom—to hell with it all. Walker was just a man, they were all men in here. All men had one weakness.

Miles gathered up the last of his scattered presence of mind and aimed a kick at Walker's groin.

Walker buckled, a little. He didn't let go of Miles's collar, but he did bend, enough that Miles slid down the wall to the bed. He struggled and tugged enough that the top button on his shirt popped off, but Walker just used his other hand to press Miles's face down into the bedsheets.

"Don't fight," Walker said. "Standard procedure. Contain the threat. Can't let anyone escape quarantine."

"No, no, fuck," Miles gasped. "I'm not one of them. I—I just got here. To film—see?" He pointed at the camcorder. "To expose—to help."

"I know," Walker said.

 _God, is he lucid? Is he smarter than he looks? I can't tell._ Miles squirmed around, trying to get a good look at Walker's face. Tiny, blind-looking white eyes, no hair or even eyebrows, nose and lips shredded to the point of almost featurelessness, and that perpetual forced grimace—that face wasn't made for emotions. He couldn't read him at all.

"Doesn't change anything. Situation critical." Miles felt the hand at his collar leave and instead gather up both his hands behind his back as Walker clambered onto the bed, settling with one knee on either side of Miles.

 _He's going to pull my head straight back and snap my neck,_ Miles thought distantly. Then the thought echoed through him again, urgently— _He's gonna kill me_ _—_ _He's right on top of me—_

_All men have one weakness—_

Miles's jello legs struggled for just a moment to find purchase on the bedsheets, before he managed to lift himself up at the hips, high enough to make contact with Chris Walker's groin. Miles tried, pathetically, to rub his ass against his attacker.

"Jesus Christ, don't kill me," he pleaded into the sheets. "I'll do—whatever you want, alright? Wh-when's the last time you saw a guy without his face ripped off, huh?” He felt himself regretting it already. “Anything you want, just don't—" He'd run into countless sex-crazed maniacs tonight. There had to be a chance that Walker was one of them, right? He would never have been brave or stupid enough for this if not for the adrenaline surging through him right now. Every heartbeat was like another pledge to himself to live, no matter how stupid or humiliating his last attempts were.

He was actually surprised when the hand pinning his arms to his back loosened.

"Hey, I'll—" Miles fumbled at his belt buckle with his newly freed hands. He pulled his pants down to his knees, exposing plaid boxers that he was sure were soaked through with sweat. "I can take it all off. Just tell me what you want." He raised his ass a little higher, grinding against the coarse fabric of Walker's blood-soaked pants, sure that he could feel a thickening—oh god that was huge—

Miles rubbed his sweaty palm against the outside of his boxers. It was probably just the adrenaline, but feeling something like that pressed between his ass cheeks—separated by just a couple layers of fabric— _god, what's wrong with me?_ He thought again about the man he'd found fucking the corpse. _It's getting to me. This place._

A jolt ran through him when Walker grabbed one of his legs, lifted him up to get a better angle to grind on him.

_It's working, Jesus Christ._

He felt bony claws tear his boxers down his thighs.

_I'm prostituting myself to a giant homicidal freak._

Feeling the rough canvas fabric of Walker's pants against the bare skin of his ass, and how effortlessly Walker lifted him, and hearing the raspy quickening breathing above him, Miles suddenly felt like he was at the mercy of a beast. _He's into it. I just gotta make sure I keep him interested_ _—_ _me love you long time. Christ._

"Should I—" Why was his voice so tiny right now? He could already barely believe what he was saying. "Want me to suck your—" He resisted the urge to mumble it into the sheets. "...to put it in my mouth?"

He heard a grunt of assent from Walker and the massive hand on the back of his head relinquished its pressure. Miles heard the clink of heavy chains and the sound of a rusty zipper being slowly sawed open.

Before he gathered the courage to roll over on his own, Walker grabbed him by the shirt collar and flipped him over onto his back. Miles found himself staring up at the biggest cock he'd ever seen. Even only half-hard, it was too intimidating to imagine actually going in his mouth. Thick as a soda can, and not one of the skinny retro kind either— _fuck it, Miles, this isn't the time to be getting all journalistic on yourself_ _—_ _this is NOT going in the expose—_

"No waiting." Walker tugged him closer and Miles screwed his eyes shut as the thing poked him in the face, smearing a few drops of salty precum across his cheek.

He licked his dry lips. "Yeah—yeah." Tentatively, he licked the tip of it.

It tasted like salt and sweat and, well, he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting—he tried not to gag as he let it further into his mouth, stretching his jaw until it was about half in. Why was his mouth so fucking dry? He tried to summon up more saliva. _This isn't the time for performance anxiety._ He pulled back a bit, until only the tip was in his mouth, and swirled his tongue around the head. This just wasn't a good position anyway. He scooted back a little so he could sit up, with Walker's grip only letting him go so far.

"No running," Walker said.

"I'm just trying to—here. This is better..." Comfortable again, he tried to carefully guide it back into his mouth. _I'm out of practice. Let's see how far in I can get this._

Instead, he gagged as Walker pushed his head onto it, ramming the huge cock down his throat.

"Eat it like a whore," Walker growled.

 _Fuck, he's pushy_ _—_ _oh, fuck._ As Miles struggled against Walker's hand, trying to reach a compromise that allowed him to breathe, he rubbed himself a little. God, why had THAT gotten to him? He was as much of a freak as anyone in here.

Walker's labored breathing as he sucked him off to the best of his ability was hitting a note in him, and he focused on that sound as he tried jerking himself off—he was too uncoordinated to do both at once. God though. He'd never thought he was that into bears. Well, Walker might have been a bear if he'd had any hair, anyway.

Miles's pathetic cock-sucking skills weren't enough to buy him his freedom, he knew that. He knew letting Walker in the backdoor wouldn't end well, but he couldn't keep trying to choke down this cock much longer. He summoned up as much saliva as he could and coated as much of Walker's dick as he could in it.

"Put it in?" he ventured. He spread his legs apart, kicking his boxers off, and when Walker looked down between his legs he wasn't sure whether to be excited or terrified.

Walker only grunted. Miles tried to think of some way to ask 'which way should I take it', but before he could, Walker grabbed him by the leg and pulled him close. Miles felt himself rise off the bedsheet almost completely with the force of Walker's pull, and he grabbed the sheets to keep himself stable.

Walker took a moment to position himself before he entered. It was long enough that Miles wondered whether Walker had ever done this before. _Come on, he was in the army. Of course he's—_

Walker shoved in, and Miles felt a jolt of pain jump all the way up his spine.

 _So big. Too big._ Miles fought down the urge to panic, but he was hyperventilating again. God, it was like being raped by a horse. The spiking pain stayed in him, unmoving, for so long that he worried something was wrong.

Then Walker pulled back, agonizingly slow, and Miles felt like his intestines were being ripped out through his ass.

"Good," Walker growled. "Tight little pussy...little whore."

Miles felt all his blood run right between his legs. Made him dizzy.

Walker fucked at first like a man who wasn't sure what he was doing. Sticking himself into a warm hole over and over, just trying to see how deep he could get. It was all Miles had been expecting, what he'd been dreading; he gagged and bit the bedsheets, just trying to think of finally getting out of here, trying not to look at his severed fingers. Trying to recapture the dizzy rush he'd had a moment ago, trying not to judge himself for getting off on bartering his ass for freedom.

The big guy was starting to get the hang of it now. Miles closed his eyes. Walker's hand on his thigh was alarmingly skinless, but by this point it didn't even freak him out so much. He'd seen much worse. It almost felt like Walker was trying to be gentle with him, as gentle as he could be. His thrusts were steady and deliberate and Miles tried to position himself so he could go as deep as possible.

One thing you could say about Mount Massive. The sheets in this room were clean. Miles could smell a familiar detergent.

Walker above him was breathing so heavily that Miles almost didn't hear himself squeak. Fuck. Walker had done it. Monkeys in front of typewriters.

"That," Miles gasped. "Again."

As Walker fucked him, he tried fucking his own grimy hand. God—he could do it. He could cum here. If Walker just kept doing it like that. There he was with the hyperventilating again, but god this huge fucker was going so fast now, Miles let himself be fucked into the mattress, feeling the full weight of his pursuer on him, feeling the hot breath on his neck. He flinched. And then flinched again, when he felt a hand that wasn't his wrap around his cock.

Walker tightened his grip so that it was almost painful as he came, Miles shuddered as the seed poured into him, and then Walker stayed there instead of pulling away. His hand fumbled with Miles's cock.

Miles put his hand on top of Walker's, shivering with revulsion or—something as he touched the mutilated talons. "H-here." He weakly guided Walker's hand for a moment before his whole body went limp in Walker's arms, a fear response...or something like that. His cock was hard as it'd ever been.

He leaned back against Walker's bulk, staring into the dark. It's not too late for him to go back on his word. He could just fuck me raw and rip my head off. For all I know he's doing some twisted last courtesy.

Walker's mangled face, his exposed teeth, brushed against the side of Miles's neck. It could have been an accident the first time. But he did it again.

 _He's trying to kiss me?_ Miles would have laughed if there was any way he could bring himself to. _That's...pathetic._

One of Walker's huge fingers replaced his limp cock in Miles's freshly-fucked ass. Miles felt himself lifted off Walker's lap, he was being pleasured now by both of those bloodstained hands, his head lolled limply against Walker's shoulder, he was totally powerless, what Walker lacked in finesse he made up for with tirelessness, jacking Miles off til his skin was raw and finally he came, shooting all over the bedsheets with a shaky moan that felt like a sob in his throat. He was so tired.

He looked up at Walker and if that face could look somber, it did.

"Get out," Walker said.

Miles nodded.

Walker pulled his finger out of Miles's ass and Miles flinched at the loss. He laid Miles down on the bed as gently as he could. Miles didn't feel like he could sit up. The soreness was setting in already all the way down his legs and up his back.

Tentatively, Walker reached out and put a dirty hand on Miles's head. "You're a...you're a good kid." He sounded like he hadn't spoken words like this in years. But he'd said them once. In another life. "Clean-cut. Brave kid. I could...make an exception, if you go fast. Stay out of the red."

Miles nodded again. His pants and boxers were somewhere on the bed, or maybe on the floor. He tried to search for them with his skin, without moving.

Walker relinquished his hand. "Gotta keep moving. Secure the perimeter. If I see you again you're dead meat." He tugged his zipper back up, shoving himself into his pants.

"Thanks," Miles rasped. He rolled over, carefully, and felt around on the floor for his boxers. "Thanks...so much..."

Walker nodded, and lumbered down the hallway—Miles listened to him as he left, until finally, the clanking of chains was out of earshot. _If I see you again you're dead meat, huh?_ He pulled his boxers on, and found his pants. It would be a slow walk down to the elevator, but he could make it. He owed the world an expose, and goddamnit, he was going to deliver. 


End file.
